TITLE:            Sisters Across Time

AUTHOR:           dlynn

CATAGORY:         post episode, Scully pov

FEEDBACK:         dlynn1550@my-deja.com

SPOILERS:         Closure, Tithonus

SUMMARY:          "Samantha, in the simple words of 

                  a child, had conveyed the same things she had felt 

                  ever since her abduction. And, as she lay there 

                  weeping for Samantha and what she had endured, Scully was 

                  forced to acknowledge the bond they shared." 

Distribution:     Xemplary, Gossamer, Spooky's, yes. All 

                  others, yes, but please let me know so that 

                  I might visit.

RATING:           G

DISCLAIMERS:      They aren't mine.

My other stories can be found at http://home.mpinet.net/laster

"Get some sleep, Mulder," Scully said, tapping him gently on 

the arm as she passed. She noted the rueful laugh that escaped 

him knowing sleep would not come for either of them tonight.  

Mulder would stare at the diary for hours, reading every line 

over and over; looking for every possible nuance that could 

exist between lines, between thoughts. Her partner would 

profile his sister by examining the words of a fourteen-year-

old girl, letting her cries of sorrow eat away at him like a 

cancer attacking his soul. 

Scully walked briskly to the hotel door. Slipping her card key 

in the lock, she released the tumblers allowing her entrance 

to her hotel room. Shutting the door behind her, she reached 

for the light. Then paused, trailing her fingers lightly 

across the switch as she dropped her hand down beside her.

Instead of turning on the overhead light, she walked over to 

the bathroom alcove and flipped the switch there, illuminating 

the alcove but diffusely lighting the rest of the room. She 

peered at herself in the mirror, noticing the haunted look 

present in her gaze. She was on the edge of breakdown. She 

could see it in her face; she could feel it in the crumbling

of her soul. 

Taking the plastic wrap off one of the small tumblers by the 

sink, she turned on the tap, filling the glass with cool 

water. While taking a swallow to help steady her nerves, 

Scully shrugged out of her leather jacket, tossing it 

haphazardly across the closest bed. She swished the water 

around in her mouth before she swallowed, trying to alleviate 

the taste of desolation that was slowly overwhelming her.

Walking over to the bed she picked up the TV remote, flipping 

the 'on' button. The room was instantly bombarded with sights 

and sounds as the TV blared out a Nissan Truck commercial. 

Impatiently snapping it 'off', she threw the remote 

across the room where it landed softly on the carpet by the 

wall.

Tugging at the buttons on her blouse, she removed the silky 

garment from her shoulders, tossing it on the bed with her 

jacket. As she finished stripping off the rest of her clothes, 

she reached into the open suitcase sitting on the luggage rack 

in the closet. She audibly, "harrumphed," as she realized she 

hadn't even taken the time to unpack. 

Rummaging through her things, she pulled out a pair of mens 

style pajamas. She laid them on the end of the bed and walked 

back into the bathroom alcove. Looking at the connecting door 

between she and Mulder's room, she hesitated. Part of her 

yearned to cross to that door, opening it and seeking the 

comfort she knew she could find. But, she also knew, he needed 

this time alone. He needed time to process all that had 

happened to him these last few days.

And, looking up at the mirror, she saw her own tired 

countenance and knew she was holding things together by only a 

thread herself. She didn't need to add to his burdensome guilt 

by falling apart at his feet, another living sacrifice on the 

altar of his life's damnation.

Ripping the pajama top off the bed, Scully angerly began to pull it 

on. As she reached down to gather up the buttons, her hands 

trembled. She reached forward, bending at the waist, her hands 

placed flat atop the bedspread. Taking deep gulping breaths of 

air, she attempted to steady herself, attempted to draw on the 

natural reserves of strength that had always served her so 

well.

Only this time, it wasn't working. She could feel the pain 

welling up inside of her like large rolling waves of an ocean. 

Each wave was immediately followed by another, no ceasing in 

motion as each tumbled fast and furious behind the other until 

physically she was knocked from her feet. 

Fisting the bedspread in her trembling hands she slid 

downward. Her legs collapsed bringing her to her knees on the 

well-worn carpet.  The bedspread shifted off kilter as gravity 

and sorrow brought her soundly to the floor. The emotional pain 

seared through her like a piercing knife in her heart as she felt 

the agony lance straight into her psyche.

"Nooo..." she murmured over and over again as the tears she'd 

held at bay in the restaurant now flowed in earnest. Feeling 

her throat tighten, her stomach roll with nauseousness, she 

curled up in a little ball on the floor and wept. 

Scully wept the tears of the damned. She poured out years of 

pain and grief, mingling the salty testament of her anguish 

with the carpet's dirt and grime. She screamed silently in 

frustration and grief for the girl whose words she heard 

tonight, the child whose words touched her deep within 

herself. 

Samantha was she, in so many ways.

As Mulder had begun hesitantly thumbing through the pages, 

reading excerpts from Samantha's diary, Scully had felt 

herself tense up inside. Not only had she realized the 

tremendous pain this was causing her partner, but with every 

word he'd read, she'd felt one more squeeze of her own heart. 

Samantha, in the simple words of a child had conveyed the same 

things she had felt ever since her abduction. And, as she lay 

there weeping for Samantha and what she had endured, Scully 

was forced to acknowledge the bond they shared. 

Samantha's childish scrawlings of anguish, pain and suffering 

not only filled her journal, but they filled the empty pages 

of Scully's own diary. A diary filled with page after page of 

blank, white paper because Scully didn't have her own memories 

in which to line the parchment. 

She didn't have all the particulars but she knew as she 

listened to a child's hellish account that she and Samantha 

were bound tightly together by experience, by horror. Hearing 

her words, she now realized the same emotions in herself. As 

much as she tried to suppress those feelings, Scully knew  

she too had wanted to run away, had wanted the tests to stop, 

and had hated the control being ripped from her.

Bringing her legs tightly into her chest, Scully moaned and 

rocked on the floor. Samantha was able to verbalize through 

her written words more than she had in the last five years 

since her abduction. The child spoke of the violations of her 

being, the medical rape of her body with such eloquence that 

Scully felt their shared pain conjoin across time.

For that moment in a dismal hotel room, she and Samantha were one. 

Shakily rising to her feet, Scully padded hesitantly over to 

the bathroom mirror. Stopping in front of the glass, she 

raised her tear-streaked face and stared at the woman before 

her. She noted the smeared and smudged make-up, the eyes red 

and puffy, and the hair in disheveled disarray. 

Sliding the pajama top from her form, she stood there naked 

before the mirror. She bent her neck forward, letting it 

dangle on her chest as her fingers probed at the back of her 

neck, feeling the tiny raised bump from where the chip 

remained just beneath her skin. Bringing her head back up, she 

then ran her fingers over the front of her body, touching her 

neck.  She slid her fingers around her throat, over her Adam's 

apple and back up to her mouth, where they gently rested at 

her lips. 

She felt the alien tube that had engorged her throat, having 

been shoved into her body with callous disregard for her 

humanity in that icy hell she'd suffered. It was just one 

more violation to her person.

Bringing her hand away from her salty lips, she placed it next 

over the bullet scar on her abdomen, another painful reminder 

of life's fragility. It was another example where she was 

forced to dance to the tune of another's whims. She and Mulder 

had been separated against their will and she had almost died 

because of that stupidity. 

Then with soft hiccups and quiet tears, she lay her hands 

across her barren womb, splaying her fingers out in tender 

caress.

What violations had occurred to her against her will? Besides 

the obvious ones that her body documented, her sterility, the 

cancer held only in remission because of an alien chip 

implanted within her, her memories perhaps forever gone.

What other horrors were committed against her that she could 

not remember? 

And, would Samantha's child/woman words, help bring closure to 

her as well, or only open afresh the lightly scabbed wounds? 

Could she delve farther into the secrets of Samantha's past, 

at the expense of her own future? 

Because Scully wondered as she stared at the woman she had 

become, would retrieval of the truth bring her the freedom her 

partner sought?

Or would it chain her more tightly to memories too painful 

to bear?

Looking at her now still features, Scully realized there was 

really no option. Grabbing the pajamas once more around her, 

she gathered the edges, buttoning them with sure fingers. In 

the morning, she would look; she would dig and bring them 

evidence on Samantha. She would help bring closure to Mulder 

and if that should re-open her own wounds, so be it. She would 

deal with them as well.

Staring into the mirror, looking deeply into her own eyes, she 

made peace with herself. 

She was a survivor. 

She would do this for him, for herself, and for their future.

The End